I Became a Childhood Friend With the Villainous Saintess

Chapter 50: The Sinister Sword (3)

I didn’t have much of a conversation with Vester, the bear beastman.

After all, he was just a hired hand, and I wasn’t his employer.

Even a rotten mercenary is still a mercenary. As cowardly as Vester might be, he wasn’t stupid enough to spill everything he knew in a crowded place like this.

If I had tried to force it out of him, I could’ve gotten some information, but that would’ve only caused more trouble. What I did find out was that there were several other beastmen involved in this, and the one managing them was a man named Millen.

But I didn’t need to dwell on that for long.

The person I was curious about had just appeared before my eyes.

Perhaps he was on edge from searching for Isha, because as soon as he got word, he came straight over.

Millen. The bronze-skinned man shot a sharp glare at Vester.

“Mi-Millen, sir? I didn’t expect you to come in person. I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. We were just starting to talk things through. This isn’t the person you’re looking for.”

“So it seems. The woman I’m after doesn’t have silver hair.”

Millen was an imposing figure. He stood just about as tall as me, maybe a bit taller. His short, dark brown hair framed a body packed with muscles that bulged like armor in all the right places.

One could tell he’d trained hard to achieve that physique. If we were to fight, he’d likely move faster than his appearance suggested.

There were scars on his light brown skin, though they didn’t seem to come from the battlefield. They weren’t the kind of wounds caused by swords or spears, and they weren’t in spots you’d expect from an arrow, either. If I had to guess, they were left by some sort of concealed weapon.

It confirmed my suspicions—he must’ve come from the underworld.

His scars stretched across his body, front and back, a testament to the dirty battles he’d survived. The blood on his hands was anything but light.

Now that I was facing Millen directly, I was sure. Everything lined up with what the tavern owner and Isha had told me. This man had been one of the key players in the destruction of the Crescent Moon.

I can sense the distortion of mana. And at a high level, too.

Though every human carries traces of mana from birth, there are rare cases where the distortion goes far beyond normal limits. These people are born with special abilities, like controlling the wind at will or spewing fire from their bodies.

They’re often referred to as ‘gifted.’

A swordsman who uses mana needs to train their body. A priest who uses holy power must receive the blessing of a god through baptism. Magic requires rituals—though it might seem like a limitless force, it’s a science of complex theory and precise calculations.

But for the gifted, none of that was necessary.

They could train to wield their power more effectively, but using it was a matter of pure mana consumption, nothing more.

The most irrational and mysterious power on the continent.

Those with abilities were as dangerous as they were enigmatic. The strongest of them were powerful enough to rival swordmasters and archmages.

“Millen, sir? Just a moment.”

Vester approached Millen and whispered something. He was trying to be discreet, but it was a futile effort. The senses of a swordmaster are unparalleled. At this distance, I could expand my senses just a little and easily eavesdrop.

Poor Vester didn’t realize this, and I had no intention of correcting his misunderstanding.

- That man’s the Cursed Blade, a swordsman notorious in the conflict zones. The White Claw mercenaries were wiped out by him.

- I think I’ve heard of him. What about the woman next to him?

- I’ve heard she’s called the Saint of Rest, but I don’t know much else. She’s as dangerous as the Cursed Blade. I doubt they have anything to do with the kid you’re looking for.

- Understood. I’ll get the details later.

Just as I had observed Millen, he was sizing me up too. His eyes flickered over my arms, legs, and shoulders, as if assessing an opponent.

It didn’t seem like he was about to attack recklessly. Millen didn’t appear eager to fight in such a crowded place. If he had already found Isha, it might be different, but spilling blood here would only scare the patrons.

Still, he was clearly ready to draw his sword at any moment. Against someone with special abilities, even a moment of carelessness would be fatal.

“My apologies. While we were the ones who acted rudely first, my men have taken some damage. How about we act like today never happened?”

“...Only if you apologize to the Saintess.”

“Hm. Was there an insult?”

“You were about to. I stopped you.”

“I wasn’t aware. I didn’t hear any such thing.”

Millen’s eyes narrowed slightly, glancing between me and Sirien with a cold gaze.

I could sense a bit of hesitation. Was it a clash between his pride and practicality? The pause didn’t last long, and his decision was to concede. Millen bowed his head slightly.

It was an awkward gesture, as if an apology didn’t suit him.

“I offer my apology, young lady. Could you forgive our discourtesy?”

“Since it was a proper apology, I will. As you said, we’ll consider today’s events as if they never happened.”

“I’m grateful for your grace.”

Sirien accepted the apology with ease. Since it was her decision, I had nothing more to add. Besides, a skirmish with these Sewer rats could wait for another day. I had already accomplished my goal, after all.

Earlier, I had left traces of divine energy on a few of the stragglers and Vester. It was a minor trick only Sirien could use.

A trivial and barely noticeable blessing—like a blessing to ensure a sneeze happens in one try. If you poured an excessive amount of divinity into something as insignificant as that, the residual divine energy would linger like a stain.

Think of it as leaving a special kind of paint on the rats. They would inevitably return to their hideouts, and when they did, the paint Sirien had left behind would mark those places.

Later, we could track the trail and find their hideout. The method had its drawbacks, such as a limited detection range and a short duration, but... it was good enough to catch rats.

I was constantly amazed by how she came up with such ideas. Just memorizing holy laws for combat gave me a headache. Was it a matter of aptitude? Or brains? I didn’t want to admit the latter.

In any case, with the apology over, Millen turned his attention back to me. It seemed inevitable that we would fight one day, but for now, I decided to take a more conciliatory approach.

“Are we truly clear of any bad blood now?”

“Let’s say we are.”

“Then, purely out of curiosity, may I ask why you’ve come to Requitas?”

‘Purely out of curiosity, my foot.’

It was a blatant lie. Millen was far more interested now than he had been when mentioning his injured subordinates. His tone might be polite, but underneath it lay a cold, sharp suspicion.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“I’d love to hear more. I’m quite skilled at finding people, you see.”

“Hmm.” I pretended to ponder for a moment, diverting my gaze.

At just the right moment, Sirien stepped in.

“There was something I needed to entrust to someone named Kirux. But I’ve heard he’s already dead, so I’m in a bit of a bind.”

“Then, does the Saintess plan to just return?”

“No. I’ll have to entrust it to someone else.”

“I heard that one of Kirux’s subordinates or colleagues is still in this city. If possible, I’d prefer to leave it with them.”

Kirux was the reason we had first come to this city. He was the Sewer rat who killed Terion and Hena. The same Kirux who had sent the hunters after us in the forest. Wiping out any trace of them was the first step in our revenge.

To be honest, Isha and Crescent Moon were just side issues.

So, this wasn’t a lie. We genuinely wanted to find them. Millen nodded.

“I’ll ask around. Let’s meet again then.”

* * *

As Razen and Sirien made their way back to the inn, Millen turned and headed back to where he’d originally come from.

His expression wasn’t particularly pleasant.

“Vester, right?”

“Yes. Um, Millen, sir? Are you... upset?”

“I have no reason to be. They weren’t the kind of people you were supposed to deal with from the start, so you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Relief washed over Vester, and he exhaled deeply.

But Millen’s next order wasn’t one Vester wanted to hear.

“Have them followed. Find out where they’re staying, where they eat, and bring me everything you can learn about them.”

“W-what?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me. I said to have them followed. Watch their every move.”

Vester’s vision darkened. The thought of being pitted against those two was unbearable.

He had come to Requitas after the traumatic memories of the battlefield left him terrified of war, yet he still needed to make money. Meeting those two again was already nightmarish enough for him. But it didn’t seem like Millen had any intention of understanding his situation.

“They’re formidable, so I assume they could’ve wiped out three people in an instant. And it doesn’t seem like they’ve been in town for long. The timing is suspicious.”

“You mean…”

“We’ll watch for now, but I don’t like the feeling. Better to be prepared.”

Millen clenched his fist tightly.

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